It was the night before Christmas. I sat in the middle of my living room surrounded by piles of gifts. Each pile represented a person. Each person with their own pile of presents from me. A pile for each of my three children. A pile for my Mother and Father in law.
There was one more pile, the largest of them all. My eyes were fixed upon it. Dadís pile. Even with the reassurance of my husband I still wondered. Did I get him enough? Would he like what I picked out? Should I run out for more things for him?
It wasnít until several days later that my eyes were opened to what was really going on. This was my first Christmas without my mom. Subconsciously I was trying to fill the void. There was a void of normalcy after all.
I was still here. Christmas had come back. But not mom. She had decided after thirty years of marriage that she should have never married Dad. So she was gone.
That was my first Christmas without my mom.

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